Triangle
by MademoiselleSpooky
Summary: She can't get that kiss out of her mind...
1. Chapter 1

Triangle

a fictitious extension of the episode-she can't get the kiss out of her mind

Chapter 1

Dina Shelly sat on her bed in her stateroom, her heart pounding. Working for the OSS, she was definitely used to strange people and strange situations. For example, this assignment, which had her undercover as a lady of leisure on the Queen Anne luxury liner, trying to seek out...something...called Thor's Hammer, which would theoretically change the course of history in a very drastic way.

The Nazi soldiers she had overheard believed it was a weapon capable of levelling a city flat, and poisoning it to the extent that it could not sustain life for many decades into the future. But her assignment had been to seek out a man, a scientist, who had the knowledge and the technology to build such a weapon. Dina was usually an unflappable agent. She had to be, being the only woman in her division, among very few female agents within the organization as a whole. But this assignment had her terrified to her very core. Could she really be responsible for changing the course of history-either to the good or the bad? And how could she know what to believe?

And then, tonight. Her cover had been almost completely blown by that disheveled young man in the Nazi uniform who had blasted into the ballroom trailing a cadre of Nazi soldiers with guns drawn. How was it that his own men were after him? He had run up to her, his face lit up with joy at seeing her, as though he were meeting a long-lost friend.

Only problem was, she had never seen him before. And she barely had time to register this before several people were shot dead on the ballroom floor and mayhem ensued. The British sailors had swarmed into the ballroom, taking on the Nazi soldiers, and before she could even breathe this young man in the Nazi uniform had grabbed her and dragged her out of there.

She was not only terrified but utterly offended in the casual, familiar way he persisted in treating her-as though they were old friends. His hands were gentle and his eyes were kind, but he grabbed her and touched her as though he knew her. Dina was a lady, she did not permit men to touch her without her permission. She wondered briefly if this was how Nazis treated their women, and if so, she could see why there was serious unrest in their country.

Unfortunately, she found herself with little choice once she allowed herself to be dragged off by this hooligan. He urged her on, holding her hand, her wrist, even putting his hand on the small of her back (the nerve!) to keep her moving. But there was no way she could return to the chaos in the ballroom, with bullets firing and shouting and glass shattering. They wove their way through the labyrinthine halls of the stateroom decks.

Stopping to gasp for breath, Dina blinked as she swore she saw herself run past. Now how could that be? Squeezing her eyes shut and then reopening them, the hallway was now deserted. She wondered if she was dreaming. She hoped she was, because this case was devolving into a mess faster than she could even think. One minute her cover safely intact, dancing with her partner, her eye on the suspected scientist, and suddenly shots, a young Nazi, a horde of British sailors, and now her own doppelganger running into her in the hall. She was finally able to draw a deep breath when she felt a hand grab her, and she was off running again.

Cool, fresh night air blasted her in the face as the young soldier yanked open a door and hauled her up on the deck. As the door slammed shut, the din of the fighting going on in the ballroom was silenced and there was nothing but the harsh rasping of their ragged breathing, and the gentle swishing of the ocean around them.

He turned to face her, and gripped her shoulders. As she looked in his eyes, a thrill shot through her without warning. They were beautiful eyes-golden colors ringed by hazel brown, like sunflowers under glass. She shuddered and told herself it was the cool night air on her bare shoulders. It had to be.

"Scully" he said, still fighting for breath but in a terribly serious tone. "This ship is trapped in time."

She blinked. She hadn't heard that entire statement. She had been watching his lips. She suddenly felt warm. Too warm.

"You need to turn the ship around. Back the way it came. You have to correct this rift, it's very important."

"My name is Dina. Dina Shelly. What did you just call me?" She asked, unsure how to even address his other statements.

"I'm sorry." He breathed, looking deep into her eyes. "I thought you were….someone I knew." That tingling thrill zipped through her again, and she felt like she was melting inside. He paused. "In case we never meet again." He said softly, then bent down and kissed her, hard and passionately.

His lips met hers hungrily, his warm mouth gently caressing hers. Her head spun and her knees felt weak. Without knowing exactly why, she found herself returning his kiss, feeling as though she was falling into him.

When he came up for air, her senses returned, and she swung out and punched him hard. She had been trained to defend herself, and the confusion, panic, and emotional fervor of the evening came through in that hit. Without another word, he turned and leapt over the rail into the frigid ocean.

She had thrown in a life preserver after him, but she didn't see him again. She stood on the deck for the better part of an hour, watching, waiting to see if he would surface. If the contact with the water hadn't knocked him out, the hypothermia probably would soon, and she fully expected to see his body float up in the black water. She could no longer feel her toes, though, and decided she had to go in.

Now here she sat in her undergarments, the torn and salt-sprayed dress in a heap on her stateroom's chair. She tried hard to make some sense of the emotional storm within her, but was having little success. His familiarity with her was appalling and completely ungentlemanly. That alone was reason to fear him. The Nazi uniform was another reason, but something convinced her that he was not actually a Nazi.

Then, there was his eyes. She had heard that eyes were the windows into the soul, and his seemed to exemplify that notion. They were warm, tender, and expressive. His kiss had intoxicated her, but she was drawn to those eyes in a way she had never experienced before. She felt like she knew him. But how? She had never in her life met him. Yet a certain part of her was drawn to him like a moth to a flame-as though they had in fact been very close friends.

Or more. Dina's body was not allowing her to forget his touch either. Deep within her belly a warm feeling swirled, making her heart beat faster and her breath come harder. She was thoroughly embarrassed to find herself thinking about parts of him she had not seen. Nor would she ever, it seemed.

She slipped down her panties without taking off her stockings, and she laid back and allowed her hands to wander down. She had never known a man yet she immensely enjoyed a rich fantasy life and her own hands. She was anxious, swollen, and very slick. Her fingers dipped in and out of her flower as she used the lubrication to slide around that most sensitive little bud at the top.

Warm and exciting feelings rushed to the site as her mind fashioned a love scene right there on the deck of the ship, with the howling wind and the stinging salt spray. She imagined what it would be like to need someone so bad, to satisfy that urge, to join and mate and reach climax together, praying they would not be found before they were finished.

Her dreams that night were sweet, and she slept harder than she had in a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Although she had been sleeping soundly, Dina woke up with a start as she fell out of her berth onto the hard stateroom floor. Gasping, she grabbed around in her in a panic, fearing the icy water that was swallowing her, hungrily sucking in air that would soon be gone...her eyes flew open. She was on the floor. She had only been dreaming she had fallen in the water.

Sitting up, she breathed slowly, trying to calm her pounding heart. What in the world had happened last night? The events returned to her in bits and pieces—a handsome Nazi soldier, her own self passing her in the hall, frigid water...a strange set of instructions. Turn the ship around and sail back out of the Triangle.

That sentence reverberated in her brain as she sat there, not wanting to move for fear of disturbing her memories. The young man, who was so attractive and made her feel...so amazing...was dressed as a Nazi but being chased by Nazis. Perhaps he was in disguise. And furthermore, he acted as though he knew her, then he called her by the wrong name. What had he called her? Scully. That was it. It was close to Shelly. But not close enough.

And then he had kissed her. Kissed her deep and hard and passionately-in a way she had never been kissed before. Then he had jumped into the water...and out of her life forever. That thought made her sad, even if she didn't know quite what to make of him. She couldn't get that kiss out of her mind.

But he had been adamant—she needed to turn the ship around. She didn't know how to do that, she was no sailor. But the ship was full of them, and she was an OSS agent. Surely she could convince them...she stopped as she realized that she had no way of explaining that a man she did know but didn't know who could quite possibly be a Nazi had told her to turn the ship around to correct a rift in time. No way. Unless. Her eyes fell on her service weapon. This was completely against the rules, amoral, stupid even. She would lose her job.

But what if he was telling the truth, and something terrible would happen if they sailed on? Could she stake her career against that tenuous notion? What if the ship sailed on and disappeared? What if they all died, or fell into some alternate dimension? What if there was something they were meant to do...that wouldn't happen if they disappeared? Her hand closed around the cold, hard metal of her gun. She couldn't believe she was considering this. But she couldn't believe much that she had experienced in the past twelve hours.

Another possibility suddenly occurred to her. What if she was the only one left alive on the ship? What if the Nazi sailors had killed everyone else on board and escaped? Or taken over the ship? They might no longer even be sailing in the same direction anymore. Quickly, quietly, she got dressed and moved toward the door. What if she was already in an alternate dimension? What if she had been all along?

Cracking the door slightly, she peered out into the hall. Her hand was on her weapon, just in case. She saw no one and nothing. She realized she was not even sure that the ship was moving. Her stateroom had no windows. Neither did the hallway. Silently she padded barefoot through the carpeted hall, staying close to the wall. She listened hard for voices within the other staterooms, but heard nothing.

As she neared the corner, she stopped and held her breath. She still heard nothing but the beating of her own heart. Mentally she counted the decks of the ship. She was on the second one from the bottom. The ballroom was right above her. She had to find a way upstairs. Somehow she knew that whatever she found in the ballroom would tell her the rest of the story. At the end of the hall, she ducked into a stairwell.

The stairs echoed as she climbed them as quietly as possible. She shuddered as a thought occurred to her. It was as silent as a tomb. What if she was in fact the only one left on board? On a stilled ship, surrounded by dead bodies, or worse, surrounded by Nazi soldiers who wanted to kill her. Or rape her. Or capture her. She felt tears prick in her eyes. This was not how the assignment was supposed to go.

The lights on the next level were all out. The doors to the ballroom were closed. She crept up to the first door and dared herself to peek in. Broken glass littered the floor. A microphone lay in the rubble. Chairs were overturned, glasses, food, and plates were scattered across the floor. But there was not a soul. No dead bodies. No living ones either.

Holding her breath, she pushed open the door with her shoulder, praying it wouldn't squeak. Picking her way barefoot around the broken glass, she confirmed that the ballroom was in fact empty. There was a pool of blood on the floor where the bodies had lain. She crouched down to look closer, all the while keeping her eyes scanning the room. There were no drag marks. The blood was still sticky. It was as if the bodies had simply vaporized off of the floor.

She had to find the controls of the ship. But if the boilers were shut down and there was no one to run them, then what was she going to do? Fear coursed through her as she realized that she would probably die here. No one remaining to hear her cries, no navigational equipment, no controls, no power. No fresh water, after a few days. Stuck.

She reached the opposite side of the ballroom and peeked out into that hallway. Still no one. And still dark. She had to find the controls. She had to try. Creeping towards the stairs she again climbed several flights to reach the upper decks. Cold air greeted her as she opened the hatch to the topmost deck. The ship was definitely not moving. Thick, misty clouds of fog hung around her like a shroud. She shivered again. The ship was engulfed in a death shroud. And she was trapped aboard it.

The control room's door was stuck and for a terrible moment she feared it was locked, but a hard shoulder check burst it open and she stumbled into the room. Her fear was not unfounded. The controls were all quiet. The navigational equipment was all still. There was no way to turn the ship around, because there was no way to power it. It was, quite literally, dead in the water.

She had to come up with a plan.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

She descended again below decks, where the air was warmer. Her bare toes felt numb and her bones felt chilled. It wasn't even that it was that cold above deck, but the thick, ominous fog chilled her to a depth she hadn't thought possible. She returned to the ballroom level, assuming the kitchen must be close to it. She needed something to eat. And she needed to assess what she had to see how long she could survive.

Every kid with a flashlight knew the ubiquitous SOS signal-dot dot dot dash dash dash dot dot dot. But without power, she couldn't send a distress call. She wasn't sure that even if she could, that she could actually reach anyone. If she had slid off into another dimension, then maybe no one could help her anyway.

She perched on a long table in the galley and nibbled at some bread that had been left on a large platter, as though it had been ready to take out into the ballroom when all hell had broken loose. Looking around the galley, there were full pots, open cabinet doors, and piles of scraps left, just as though the people working with them had simply vanished. How was it possible that everyone had disappeared and left only her? It couldn't be that she was in her stateroom. Other people had surely been in theirs at such a late hour, and they too were gone. People had been running the ship, steering, cleaning, cooking, serving...and they had just vanished. And she remained.

The kiss. The notion struck her like a punch in the gut. The young man. Who knew her but did not know her. Who called her by the wrong name. Who somehow knew that something terrible would happen to the ship, and directed her to turn it around. How would he have known that unless he was from a different time himself? And he had jumped into the water and disappeared so thoroughly-where had he gone? If he couldn't swim, he wouldn't have jumped in so cavalierly. Yet he had gone down and vanished as though he had never been there, but the taste of him on her lips proved without a doubt he had.

Her hand flew up to her mouth. What if the kiss had formed a sort of link between his time and hers? And that link...was a tether...that kept her alive because she existed in his time? What if she actually was this Scully person and she was spared because she needed to exist in the future? Her pulse quickened. In case we never meet again. But they had. And they needed to. For some unknown reason, she and that young man needed to meet in the future...in his time.

She slid off the table, ready to go...then stopped. Where was she going to go? She was trapped on this ship. And if she couldn't even steer a ship, how exactly was she going to travel time? Build a machine like the Time Traveller in The Time Machine? She giggled a bit at that thought, then her heart drooped. He had made it there, and made it back, but hadn't found a happy future waiting for him.

Suddenly she hit upon another thought. What if it was HER, and not the ship, that needed to get back out of the Triangle? There was no guarantee that the people vanished from the ship would reappear even if she managed that feat. What if it was her, with this theoretical link to the future, that needed to make it out? It would be easier to get just herself out. Or would it? She'd die of hypothermia in the frigid waters inside of an hour. Lifeboat. It was her only hope.

She took some time to pack food, water, and lots of blankets and clothes. She worried that the fog would soak her through in minutes. Hauling her burden, she slowly slogged up to the lifeboat deck. Layering her things in the bottom of the boat, she searched for the mechanism to launch it. She prayed it wasn't electric. It wasn't. Her cold fingers did not want to cooperate in undoing the latch, and her fingernails shredded one by one. Sticking a finger in her mouth and biting off a rough nail, she pried desperately at the latch until she felt it move. When it finally did, it snapped on her other hand and she cried out in pain.

Nursing her bruised hand, she clambered into the boat, her stomach lurching with panic as it swayed and bumped into the side of the boat. She clutched on to the rope, praying she could hold it well enough to keep it from dumping her into the water. Slowly she released it until she felt the boat rest in the water. She breathed a huge sigh of relief as she placed her hands on the oars and pushed herself gently away from the Queen Anne.

Dina had never rowed a boat before, and her arms were sore and her eyes stung with the salt before she had made it very far. Angry tears of frustration began to well up in her eyes. She was going to die. In a boat. With no one else around. She struggled on and then realized if she tired herself out too much she wasn't going to make it. She needed to rest. Nothing would happen to her in the boat.

She made sure to secure the oars in place before lowering herself gently onto the floor of the boat. She pushed aside her provisions to make a sort of nest for herself. Looking up and back the way she had came, she was panicked to see she could no longer see the Queen Anne at all. She was alone. In the fullest sense of the word, she was alone. Huddled under a rough wool blanket, she could no longer hold back the tears and she wept silently into the bag her head was on.

She had had a storied life, and it was going to end here. She was going to die in the bottom of a little metal rowboat, in the middle of an eerily still sea, after escaping from a ship where the other passengers had all mysteriously vanished. Her last human contact had been a handsome young man she had never met before, yet oddly enough she seemed to know. It was now only a question of whether the cold, the moisture, or the dwindling provisions would finish her off.

Shivering, she drifted off into an uneasy sleep in her tiny little craft.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Dana Scully did not realize she had been asleep when she heard the soft mechanical beeping. She slowly opened her eyes and looked around. She was in the hospital, sitting in an awkward chair, with her head resting down on her chest. Her neck screamed as she straightened it. Mulder was lying asleep in the bed, an IV snaking from his arm and an oxygen tube from his nose. The beeping was from his heart monitor. He was alive. He had come out lucky again.

Slowly she stretched out her back and listened to the popping sounds. She didn't remember falling asleep, but she had been awake two nights straight. He had decided to search for a ghost ship in the Bermuda Triangle, and he had disappeared. She had frantically called the Lone Gunmen for help, and they had landed in a strange situation she swore was a dream.

She walked over to Mulder's bed and looked down at him. A large bruise was beginning to form on his jawline. She put her hand over it gently, wondering how he managed to get that, when suddenly a train of thought blasted through her head. Without realizing, she cradled her right hand in the left. The knuckles were sore. Why? What the hell had happened on that ship?

The heart monitor began to beep faster as he began to stir. Gently she took hold of his hand and watched as his eyes fluttered open. "Scully" he murmured.

"I'm here, I'm here." she said tenderly, laying a healing hand on his forehead. "You were very lucky we found you. You almost died. Again."

He blinked against the lights, even though they were dimmed. "You made it." he said softly. "You turned the ship around."

"Mulder, I don't know what you're talking about—I didn't turn anything around. The Lone Gunmen and I rescued you from the water where you went to find that ship."

"You looked so pretty in that blue dress." he whispered, smiling up at her.

"Mulder, I think you suffered a concussion. Maybe worse."

"Scully." he said. He moved up onto one elbow, wincing with pain. "You were there. And Skinner, and Cancerman. You were all there."

"I was here, all night. That, and out in the sea searching for you." she argued.

"You were not you though. You were...someone else. But you were...you were still you." he smiled sweetly at her. His eyes shone.

"Mulder, that doesn't make any sense."

"But you're here. You're here so you must have made it out of the Triangle, reversed the rift...I'm so glad we did meet again."

Scully opened her mouth to tell him that he was speaking nonsense, but his last sentence struck a chord within her. She felt her stomach flip over. In case we don't meet again. Why did that statement sound so damn familiar to her?

Mulder reached up and gently fingered his jaw, touching the purpling bruise. "You have a hell of a right hook." he said, still smiling.

"You think I hit you?" she asked, incredulously, but her hand was sore. "Mulder, I have to go get some coffee. I'll be right back." She escaped the room and stood outside, her head spinning.

A hard punch. In case we don't meet again. A blue dress. Her hand went up to feel her hair. It felt...damp. How could it still be damp? Slowly she walked to the coffee machine, trying frantically to process these thoughts. Was she remembering? Dreaming? Hallucinating? And when Mulder smiled at her, she felt a rush of sensation flood her nether regions. She felt warm. She felt aroused. But she still felt...cold.

She sipped the hot coffee hoping it would somehow jar her mind back into sanity. Outside Mulder's room, she bumped into the attending doctor.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Mulder is it?" he asked.

She almost choked on the coffee. "No, no, I'm his partner." the doctor looked her oddly. "His work partner. We're FBI agents." The doctor nodded but still looked at her strangely. "Dedicated partner. I never saw someone's colleague sleep in their room in a chair all night." he smiled at her and ducked into Mulder's room. She lingered in the hall for a moment, fighting the quickened heartbeat and a pleasant buzz of dizzyness.

"Agent Fox Mulder." The doctor said jovially, pulling up a chair next to Mulder's bed. "You are a lucky man. Another few minutes in that water and you may not have made it." he nodded towards Scully. "You have some very good friends, sir."

Mulder nodded and smiled. The doctor went on.

"I'd like to release you, but since we still do not know precisely how long you were in the water, I'm a bit concerned about letting you go alone. Do you live alone, Mr. Mulder?"

"Yes. I do." Mulder replied. Scully took a deep breath as she felt that tingling in her panties again. Good gracious. She knew where this was going to lead. She also knew where she hoped it would lead.

"Is there anyone you can stay with, or who can stay with you for a few days, just to keep an eye on you?" The doctor glanced over at Scully, who was busily drinking her coffee to hide her grin.

"Doctor, he can come stay with me for a while." she said, trying to keep her composure. "I am a doctor myself, I will keep an eye on him." She swallowed hard. She could not look at Mulder.

"Excellent, that would be idea." The other doctor closed the chart and placed it back in the holder. He leaned close to Mulder. "I tell you again sir, you are lucky to have some very good friends." And then he winked.

Mulder smiled in response while Scully gaped. "I know doctor. I really am."

As soon as the other doctor was out of earshot, Scully dared to look over at Mulder. "I'd better go and clean out my guest room I guess." she said, reaching for her purse.

"Scully." Mulder said, and she stopped. "Scully I love you." The silence that bracketed that statement was deafening. Scully's heart stopped and climbed up into her throat.

Her head was racing. What was she going to say? She wasn't expecting this, she wasn't planning this...oh GOD did she feel herself getting aroused. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

"Oh, brother." she said, more in response to her own thoughts, but it was precisely the wrong thing to say. She sensed his crushed feelings in the silence. Tears flooded her eyes and she was thankful her back was turned to him. She didn't know what else to do, so she left the room.


End file.
